


Did He Do This?

by Noaboa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hospitals, Hurt, Original Character(s), Other, POV First Person, Scary Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noaboa/pseuds/Noaboa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He ran faster than I ever could. My best possible action to escape him was to hide. Hide from the man with the gun. Hide from him and his blonde friend, the men who wanted to shoot me; to kill me. I panted as I ran, my lung straining for air. My legs were on fire, I couldn’t do it. I just wanted to lie down in a ball and cry until I woke up. But this was all real.<br/>It was early morning, the sun almost hours away. Maybe if I could do this until the sun came up, someone would hear me, someone could help me. I just needed time. I just wanted help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He ran faster than I ever could. My best possible action to escape him was to hide. Hide from the man with the gun. Hide from his and his blonde friend, the men who wanted to shoot me; to kill me. I panted as I ran, my lung straining for air. My legs were on fire, I couldn’t do it. I just wanted to lie down in a ball and cry until I woke up. But this was all real.

It was early morning, the sun almost hours away. Maybe if i could do this until the sun came up, someone would hear me, someone could help me. I just needed time. I just wanted help.

A house came into my view, an old one, the old mansion. The town’s mayor’s house. If i was right, the mayor would be home, his vacation long over. This town was falling apart with him in the islands.

I strained my legs to go faster. I could hear their boots behind me, breaking twigs as I tripped over leaves. The quiet forest was a small one with the prairie to the mansion not too big either. I tried to remember where the pathway from the prairie to the door was. I didn’t want to ruin his wife’s flower garden. If i wanted help, ruining their hobbies was not the way to do it.

I arrived on their step, the men coming out of the forest. I quickly looked back before slamming my body into the door. They were coming so fast. I couldn’t handle my thoughts. The house was silent. I had one fleeting thought and took it.

I backed up and then launched myself at the small window to the right of the door. It was big enough for me to fall through, thin enough for me to break the bearing and crashing into the house. I felt the skin on my hands covering my face rip and bleed, but as I hit the ground, i scrambled to get up, cutting my arms and knees. I was sobbing almost hysterically, trying to get myself to calm down.

I could hear the men on the porch, their breaths barely labored. I could hear them stop and I stopped. I knew their were listening. I accidently let out a sob and I heard a gun cock. I took off, hearing them jump over the broken window frame. Nothing could overcome my fear. I didn’t know where to go. I ran towards the back of the house, maybe the back door would be my escape from this nightmare.

I arrived in the pristine kitchen, I wanted to grab a knife, but they were right on my tail. I saw a door and opened it, looking down at stairs. I slammed the door shut behind me as I practically fell down the stairs. They found my spot easily, wrenching the door open. Downstairs, in the Mayor’s basement, there was almost a living room with open bar. I saw another door, maybe a way out. I swing it open only to find a supply closet. WIthout thinking, I shoved myself into it, under the coats and linens hanging from the bar. I clamped my fist in my mouth to stop my sobbing. I closed my eyes, listening to their footsteps.

In the dark, I could hear them crashing down the stairs. They stopped, probably trying to listen to me. I held my breath, waiting. Suddenly, I heard a snicker and boots saunter over somewhere, away from me. I let out a breath slowly. I could hear murmuring. I trained my ears to listen for the second pair of boots, but I couldn’t hear anything. Blood rushing through my ears, light was shone upon me, making me wrench my eyes open. One was standing over me, no smile, just a grim look as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me out. I screamed, grabbing onto the closest things i could reach. The other man came over, grabbing an ankle of mine from the man. With both of them pulling at me, I felt my legs were being ripped off. I clamped onto the doorframe, but one of them swing my legs to the side, slamming my head into the frame. I blacked out instantly.

I could feel myself coming back.I could feel myself leaving the black pit of happiness, of nothingness to the reality of pain. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want that reality. I just wanted help. I wanted to be safe.

Heard before anything else. I heard their hushed voices to my right. I heard sounds, but not words. I just couldn't make out who was who, the differences in men. It felt like I was underwater.  
The next thing was feeling. I could feel my heart pumping (which means I wasn’t dead), I could feel my chest rising and I could feel the pain in my hands and arms. My legs were numb, but what I could feel, I didn’t want to feel. Accidently let out a whimper when i tried to move, but something grabbed my shoulder, keeping me down. I opened my eyes and started screaming, trying to move and get away. The man who was holding me down lifted his hand and placed them over his ears. The other one did the same thing, running over to his friend. I tried screaming longer, but I could feel the air leaving my lungs, I could feel my body sagging under effort.

I had to stop, to draw breath. My vision became black around the edges, my right arm dropped from where I was onto the floor. I could see the men uncover their ears, look at each other before the man next to me pulled out some tape and taped my mouth shut. I tried moving my arms to push him away, but they didn’t move. I tried moving my head, but he easily (and surprising not harshly) moved it back by my chin between his fingers. He flattened the tape and wiped something under my eyes. His fingers came into my vision, covered in tears. He wiped the wetness onto his shirt before I could feel them falling from my eyes. I tried to stop crying, but I couldn’t. I just wanted help.

The man was kneeling next to me. He was blonde, tanned skin, big freckles and blue eyes. He wore some white shirt and dark pants, but I didn't care what he looked like. His lips grew into a line as he looked down and reached for my fallen arm. He pulled it into my view, looking closely at the blood pouring from my wounds. I laid my arm on my body, which apparently was lying on the couch, and motioned for the other man. 

This man was also blonde, but darker at the roots. He had a strong jaw line, a five o'clock shadow playing beneath his skin. He had green eyes that didn’t look fondly down on me. All I could do was stare at my arm, the blood draining from me, thinking about the man who they weren’t. I could feel each drop leave my skin and fall onto the material of my shirt. I shivered, still crying. My breaths became deeper, became fast. I was starting to hyperventilate with tape covering my mouth. This was how I was going to die.

The first man with the white shirt grabbed my wrist fast, but gently. I looked into my eyes, which were big with the fear of death looming.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was gruff, some accent in the back of his throat. I looked into his blue ones, trying to breathe, trying to get at the tape, whimpering.

“Hey,” he repeated. “If you calm down, I will take this tape off and stitch you up. I promise I won’t hurt you on purpose if you promise not to shout.”

I tried telling him beneath the tape, but he couldn’t understand me. I tried to tell him word, but they got stuck at this artificial barrier. With a sweeping glance over my struggling form for air, his other hand he placed over my forehead, holding me down. The other guy moved in, looming over me.

“He said calm down!” the guy shouted at me, but I couldn’t stop. I needed… “Stop, Dean.” The blue eyed man said. “She’s panicking and her body can’t help it. I don’t think she will scream if I take it off. Hand me that thing under the table.”

I couldn’t see the other man as I my tears slipped from my eyes, but the man holding me spoke softly. “Just try to take deep breaths. I’m going to take this off, but you need to not scream.” I couldn’t move, all I could do was try to get my words past the tape. He pulled the silver barrier off my lips and my words burst forth. Something was thrown in front of my face and he placed his large hands around my nose and chin. I swear he was trying to suffocate me, but when I looked down, there was a paper bag around my face. The stereotypical hyperventilating treatment.  
“Now breathe deep. In. Out.” He said slowly, calmly. I did as he asked, staring into his eyes with fear. My words still spilled from my lips as if I had no control. They didn’t understand was I was saying until he paused from his instructions and lifted the bag away when he thought I was calm enough.

“I can’t… I can’t… Ican’t… I can’t…” I whispered as the man removed the bag entirely. He placed his hand again on my forehead, waiting for me to finish. “I can’t… breathe.” I finished, closing my eyes, my body crumbling with exhaustion, fear still looming. He nodded as he brushed away the hair from my face.

“Jorah.” The green eyed man growled. “Give her a minute, Dean. “ The man named Jorah said. “She needs a minute, can’t you see?”

The man named Dean chugged back a bottle of liquor, probably stolen from the little bar. Jorah took my wrist in his hand again, a cloth in the other, wiping at the stripes down my arm and avoiding the scars on my wrists. I hissed back from the pain, but he held my scarred wrist strong and turned towards me.

“I know this is going to hurt,” Jorah said as he turned back to my wrist. “But I was trying to do this before you woke up. Save you the pain.” I didn’t say anything as my cheek started to bleed between my teeth. I was biting it to distract myself. 

I looked around with only my eyes for the other man, Dean. He was on the chair next to the couch, nursing the liquor with a leg tapping impatiently.

“We don’t have time for this, Jorah.” Dean said, his body showing his inner-monologue. Jorah did not move from his task, simply just answered him without looking. “I understand, Dean, but if she is to trust us,” he looked at me at this point, glancing into my eyes then down my body, checking for something. “Then she needs healing.”

“No.” I whispered, trying to rip my arm away. I almost did it due to Jorah’s surprise, but he held fast still, causing more pain. “No, what?” Jorah growled. I glared at him, my anger spiking with my fear. “No, I will not trust you. I will not do anything for you.” I snarled at him.

“Good,” Dean said, gently putting down the bottle, cracking his knuckles out in front of him before leaning forward. “My turn.” He smiled.

“Dean,” Jorah said warningly. “This is no time for threats.” I tried sitting up, my body numb, barely moving. I ground my teeth as I started moving my core, Jorah noticing my movements and unwillingly helped me up.

“I’m not afraid of you guys.” I growled shakily, looking at my arms, checking my legs and how I moved. 

“By how you were screaming earlier, I would say that is not how you felt earlier.” Dean said gruffly, leaning back in his chair. “I thought you were him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jorah took back my arm and started sewing some part of the skin back together. My cheek bled from my to keep myself from shouting out for a moment. He had a bottle of something next to him to clean the wounds, so I grabbed it and swung it. He was about to protest, mouth open, when I downed some more. He begrudgingly took it back, wiping away more blood.

“Him?” Dean asked, not looking at me. “Who is ‘him’?” I looked down at the blood, avoiding everyone’s eye. “I don’t know his name. I swear I don’t, but he knew mine. He chased me, just like you guys, but he was faster. He caught me, chained me to the ceiling, letting me hang. He would cover my mouth, talk to me, put something in his ears, then untape my mouth. I would scream as loud as I could, making him cover his ears. To make me stop, he would either slap me across the face or taser me. Either way, I would stop, he would write something down, then go back.” I glanced up at the men. Jorah had stopped, listening to my story intently, hand rubbing his face. Dean, to my surprise, was leaning forward, staring me down. I started to feel uncomfortable, my course failing. I was scared up of these men, my adrenaline drowned with exhaustion, but now i had fear creeping in the back of my mind.

“This man,” Dean asked. “ What did he look like?” Jorah looked between myself and Dean. “Dean, you don’t think-”

“Did he have brown hair?” Dean asked intently. “ Thick, long hair, long enough to braid? Was he really tall? Flannel and a green jacket?”

This was it. I wasn’t going to die from the bleeding, neither the breathing, I was going to die because these men were with the tall man. THey were going to take me back to him, beat me, make me scream until they cut my throat. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead and my heart started pumping faster, blood seeping from the unsewn cuts harder.

“No.” I whispered, leaning back, trying to cover my face, trying to wipe away the blood. Dean didn’t take my bluff. “You know him. You know where he is.”

“No!” I yelled, tears falling. Dean got up and loomed over me. Jorah stood up as well, looking confused, but placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Tell me where he is. We need to know.”  
I shook my head, closing my eyes. I could feel Dean’s hands wrapping around my shoulders, shaking me, trying to get my attention. I started to sob, trying to swipe him away. 

“Dean!” Jorah shouted. I opened my eyes to Jorah ripping Dean away from me, pulling him off and putting himself between him and I. “Dean, she’s scared. We don’t know what he did to her. We just need to calm down and think this through!”

Dean was seething behind his chair, looking around the room, combing his hands through his hair as Jorah moved back to me. I tried getting up, but fell as soon as I got off the couch. I started screaming as I felt his arms wrap around me. I struggled out of pain and fear and I felt his grip falter for a moment before pulling me back and throwing me against the couch. I didn’t stop screaming, closing my eyes, holding my torso in pain as I tried to get up. I could hear Jorah trying to talk to me, hand on my shoulder. Dean I could also hear muffled screaming in the background. I felt Jorah’s hand leave and only then did I open my eyes and stop my screaming. I was starting to black out around the edge of vision again, so I just sobbed, trying to watch their movements.

Both had their hand over their ears, covering them with pain. Jorah was kneeling in front of me again, Dean not far, eyes closed. Both were panting, and looked exhausted. I looked at them more close, watching Jorah’s hands as they moved from his head. Blood covered his palms, dripping from his ears. Dean did the same as well, blood coming from his ears as well. I suddenly had it. The idea why the tall man held me, made me scream. Why my parents stopped me from crying when I was younger. Why these men taped my mouth shut. I could scream so loud that I would hurt them. Then another idea came to mind.

I opened my mouth to scream again, but Jorah’s hand flew up, covering my lips, making my tongue taste copper.  
“Don’t,” He said loud enough for me to hear. He was still panting, out of breath. “ Just don’t. Please.” He let his hand drop to his side before turning his back and leaning on the ouch, legs spread out in front of him. Dean moved to the chair again, wiping at his ears with his coat sleeve, picking up the bottle and chugging it down.

I tried to move, to do anything to help myself, but the black around my eyes moved closer in until I felt my head drop against the back of the couch and I passed out.

I awoke to them talking not so quietly. I was getting more feeling back to my legs and I could feel the rest of the stitches in my arm when I flex it. I felt my torso scream in agony and I groaned when I tried to move myself up. They stopped talking and looked at me.

“Quite a voice you got, kid.” Dean slightly shouted to me. I groaned, leaning back again. “You’re being too loud.” I said to him. “Sorry, I can't hear you, sweet cheeks. Someone seemed to have blown out my eardrums.” Dean shouted louder. I covered my ears, groaning again. Dean seemed to give a short, curt laugh before walking upstairs, calling over his shoulder. “I gotta take a piss.”

Jorah was wiping at his ears when he sat down in Dean’s chair and looked at me. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, but it was still load due to his blown ear drums. I snorted a laugh. It hurt.  
“I’m sorry that we had to do this. We need to find that man. Dean needs to find him.” I didn’t look at him. I just stared at the basement’s wall in front of me.

“Who is he?” I growled. “Why did he do that to me?” Jorah sighed at this and leaned back. “His name is Sam. Sam Winchester. Dean is his brother.” I felt the blood drain from my face. Brother. He was his brother. If Sam wanted to experiment with me, Dean might want to too. Although, brothers can be different.

“What does Dean want with me?” I whispered, afraid of the answer. I didn’t look at Jorah when he answered. “He wants to find Sam. We’ve been looking for him for months, hot on his heels. When we heard from… someone that there was a… case in the area, Dean thought maybe Sam went after it and we chase the case too. It ended up being you.”

Case. He was careful with his words, didn’t describe anything. I tried to pick a question. “Case. What do you mean by a case?” My voice was low, enough to where I second guessed myself on if he heard me or not, but he did.

“In our line of work… we investigate things… things you don’t understand.” He tried to explain. “Try again.” I growled. He started over.

“We hunt monsters for a living. Bad things like werewolves, vampires, ghouls, demons, angels, things like that.” My thoughts soared at the thought of what I was.

“Am I… am I an angel?” I asked, finally looking at him. I knew i looked hopeful, I couldn’t help it. The thought of me being holy, pure made this event of my life something I could recover from. He shifted uncomfortably, not looking at me, rubbing his neck.

“I don’t think so.” He said. He looked at me, but I looked away to fast, not wanting him to see these tears. These tears weren’t tears of pain or fear. They were filled with sorrow and a taste of self pity. These were tears of hope lost, my future gone. I decided then and there that there was no coming back from this. I promised myself that if I could get out, then I would try again, but only once more, then I’ll end the pain. I knew that I just never wanted to see Sam Winchester in this life ever again.

“Are you alright?” Jorah asked. I just shook my head, the question one of the most stupid things I have ever heard.

“No,” I said. “I think I need a hospital.” Looking back at him, I saw his expression turn to worry. “I sewed up your arms, your knees aren’t that bad. What else is wrong?” I shifted very uncomfortably as he moved off the chair to look over me. I looked away from him, tears still falling from pain now as I lifted my shirt to show him.

I was black, purple, blue, and yellow around my torso. I already knew, I had already seen them, been feeling them for hours. Some where from Sam Winchester, somewhere…  
“Did I do these?” He asked, lightly tracing over the new bruises I felt. He brushed his fingers in the figure where he wrapped his arms around me to pull me back. I didn’t look at him. “Did he do the rest?” I couldn’t answer. I just looked at him. He knew that instant that he was right. His face grew angry for a second then blank, showing no emotion.

“I agree you need a hospital. This is beyond Dean or my own help. Let me find him.” Jorah moved towards the stairs, turning back suddenly. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t if I could.” I said, pulling my shirt back down. He hesitated, still looking at me. “You can cuff me if that makes you feel better, but it’s going to cause me more pain than you if I move right now.”

Jorah seemed satisfied, stomping up the stairs. I could hear him walking around, the creaks in the floorboards moving with him. I didn’t hear Dean, but I didn’t waste time, moving as fast as my broken body could. I got off the couch and started going from door to door. Almost everyone was some sort of closet, but there was an unfinished bedroom behind the last door, an egress window just my size at the other end of the room. I quickly closed the door and locked it behind me. I knew it wouldn’t keep them out, but it gave me enough time to climb out the window and breathe in fresh air. My ribs and the rest of my torso did really hurt, but adrenaline was rushing through me, I had enough to get me somewhere.

I could hear someone talking on the phone out in the back. I was towards the front, not far enough where I felt comfortable away from Dean. I could pick up some words that came from his one sided conversation. “Just meet us… I have her… pick up… come on… Sam…”

Sam. He was calling Sam Winchester. His brother. This is why I was getting away. Away from the Winchesters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment with any suggestions. I love feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

I quietly made my way towards the town that was past the woods where they stalked me. I didn’t have a phone, had no way to call for help, so I started to book it. Chaos erupted then.

“Dean!” Jorah shouted from the basement. I heard Dean run back inside. I was halfway down the prairie when I heard them burst from the house. Dean was cursing, Jorah was calling my name. I turned quickly, only to see them find my running form and with long legs, they started catching up.

I was into the woods and could see the town when they reached the start of the trees. I didn’t look back, only heard their boots crunching leaves and breaking sticks underneath them. I could hear Dean seething, both of them panting. I could hardly catch my own breath, but I knew I had to keep going. This was the only chance I was giving myself.

I had made it to the outer edge of the town. There was a frontage road then a turn off road that had houses just beyond that. I could hear them getting closer, but as I jumped over the frontage road, I heard nothing. I turned back to see no one, which made me hesitate. Where did they go?

I didn’t know if I should go straight to the police or to the first house on the street. It was early morning, the sun coming up past the hills. I knew only large amount of banging would wake only some up at this hour. I thought my best bet was to hide. So I picked behind the nearest pair of cars and curled up into a ball, shivering out of fear.

I almost instantly knew this was the wrong choice, for I heard one pair of footsteps in front of me, on the other side of the car. I looked up through tears to see the figure of a man. He was tall, flannel, a jacket and boots. It was Sam Winchester.

I screamed, trying to unravel myself, crawl away from him, but he caught me, throwing me over his shoulder with a low grunt. I bashed at his back, smacked his head, pulled at his hair only to find the blonde hairs sticking between my fingers. Sam’s hair was brown. Then I heard Jorah.

“Dean! No!” He screamed. I looked up in surprise to see Jorah booking our way when I suddenly felt myself flying. Dean had thrown me from his shoulder onto the ground. I heard my ribs cracked before I felt the pain. It felt like I was being crushed by a car with an elephant stacked on top. I cringed, covering my chest with my arms from any pain. 

“Damnit Dean! You broke her ribs!” Jorah shouted, shooting past Dean and rushing over to my side, cradling my head. Dean was fuming for a second before he blinked, looking down at my broken body. He rushed over, flustered that his actions caused such hurt.

“Lift up her shirt.” Jorah commanded, brushing the hair out of my face. Dean hesitated. “We haven’t even had a second date-” Dean side smirked out of habit, but after Jorah’s galore, Dean did as he was told. He lifted my shirt up to see my now red and black, broken ribs and the skin around my stomach purple, yellow and blue. “Did… did Sam do this?” He asked quietly, looking at me. I couldn’t answer him, coughing up blood. 

Jorah had pulled out his phone and was calling 9/11. He pulled a gun out of his jacket while letting my head rest on his lap. He started talking to them, talking about a shooting. He suddenly shot off three rounds then hung up. Dean was looking at me intently, expectantly.

“Did my brother do this to you?” He asked, covering me up. I still couldn’t answer, I could barely move my head. Blood dribbled from my mouth as I choked on my own gore. I had trouble breathing. I started to panic, trying to tell them I couldn’t breathe again. Jorah turned my head to the side, letting the blood that pooled into my mouth drained out from between my lips. I still couldn’t breathe, feeling Dean’s hands feeling the extent of my ribs.

“ They’re broken. I count at least four.” My throat was getting raw from trying to let air in. “And that’s probably a punctured lung.” He finished. Dean looked up at the sound of police sirens and the ambulance arriving. Dean looked back at me, placing his hand on the side of my face, a silent apology as I panicked to get air before he stood up and waved them over. Jorah still held my head, trying to calm me.

I heard Dean rush over with the paramedics on his heel. “Where was the shooter?” A paramedic asked. Jorah shifted before pointing towards the trees. “I saw him run that way.”

“Did he shoot her?” The paramedic asked. Jorah shook his head. “Alright, we will deal with him later.” The paramedics swarmed around Jorah and me, touching me in places I couldn’t feel. They tried to make Jorah leave, but he held close, demanding that he stay with me. My vision started to go black with no air, I was still gasping for the oxygen my body needed.

“Ma’am,” The Paramedic called. “Ma’am, can you hear me?” Jorah shook his head. “She can still hear us, but she can’t breathe. We think she has a collapsed lung.” The Paramedic nodded, motioning to his colleagues. They brought out a gurney and started lowering it to the ground.

“They’re going to move you.” Jorah leaned over and whispered in my ear. “It’s going to hurt, but I’m not going to leave you, alright?” Still not answering, I took his hand that held my head tight. I had my chance to escape and I failed. I knew my own chance was gone and even though I promised myself that I would give up, the fear of dying made me so scared, I clung to the only thing that grounded me. The people who were going to give me up to Sam Winchester.

Jorah moved from his place under my head, but still held onto my hand. I tried to scream out in pain when they lifted me off the ground, but all that came out was a gurgle of blood. I could feel each movement the gurney took, each rock it bounced off of, but Jorah still held my hand. Through my blackening vision, I saw Dean looking at me with a somewhat horrified expression. He raked a hand through his hair as a cop tried to talk to him. He was pulled out of my sight as I was lifted into the ambulance, Jorah sitting by my side.

The van was white, but I could only see black. I was still aware, could still hear, but my body was going numb, my flailing slowed.

“Hey!” Jorah yelled, moving his fingers over my hand, shaking my shoulder. “Stay with us! You’re going to be alright.” The paramedics rushed around me, grabbing things, the sirens wailing above the van. Jorah’s voice was becoming distant, muffled but I could still make out sentences if I tried hard enough.

“No, you can’t,” he said, panicked. I wondered what was going on. He wasn’t talk to me now. “Sir, this is the only way.” A paramedic replied.

“She will be like that for the rest of her life!” He yelled as I felt something cold over my chest. What were they doing?

“ She won’t have a life if we don’t do this. Please, sir, let us do our jobs.” The Paramedic replied. Jorah was silent, but I felt his hand squeeze my own. I squeezed back. “She’s still aware. Can you at least knock her out?”

“It’s too late, sir. It’s now or never.” With that, I felt my chest tear open. They were ripping their way past my ribs through to my collapsed lung. I could feel everything, and I struggled to stop it all. They held me down as I gurgled blood in the back of my throat and as they opened another hole in my lung to push a tube into the new found hole in my body. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wanted to pass out again. To feel black and nothingness.

“Hey, come on,” I could hear Jorah say. “Stay with us. You need to stay with us. I don’t even know your name. Just stay long enough here to tell me your name. You’ll be able to breathe in a moment, just hold on. Please.”

I shook my head as they held down the rest of my seizing body. I was gone after that.

I never wanted to wake. It happened when I was just getting comfortable with the black. When I was just starting to like it there. It was then when I was always awoken to the blinding light.  
First I could hear. Hear the sounds of the hospital. The heart monitor, the in and out of air pumped into my lungs. The bustle of the other rooms, even the heavy thud of boots from the boys. I had visitors.

Next I could feel. There wasn’t much to feel, just numbing pain that encased my torso that spread to my toes. My head crashed with a headache my eye lids (of all things) didn’t want to move. So I just listened and waited.

“We need to get his location. After that we can go.” It was Dean. Of course it was Dean. I tried to stop it, but my heart rate sped up. I could hear them turning to look at me. I flickered my eyes open in fear and both were stand over me, on my right.

“Hey,” Dean called softly, but my heart rate didn’t slow down. I tried moving, trying to get out of the bed, away from him. Jorah ran to my left and held me down, checking the tubes hooked into me. I struggled as Dean held me down as well, but it just raised more panic. I started to cough because the tubes in my throat started to interfere with my own natural breathing. With my eyes wide, Jorah looked down at me and understood.

“Dean, get a nurse. Now!” He shouted. Dean lifted his hands up in surrender, quickly glancing at me before running out the door. I coughed horsely as I heard Dean screaming for a nurse. My body felt alien as it tried to catch air for the millionth time.

Dean ran back in, panting and hunched over, pointing to my bed. Nurses and doctors came streaming in at his command, pushing Jorah away. They shoved a needle of something into the tubes hooked to my arm and I started to relax not to my own accord.

I was paralyzed, but not unconscious as nurses did their work. They carefully pulled out tubes from my throat and kept giving me drugs. Jorah and Dean had been pushed out of the room for their work to be done properly. It wasn’t until later, after the last nurse checked over everything did the boys come cautiously back into the room.

“Is it alright if I come in?” Dean asked. He was quiet, staying in the shadows. I glared at him, my throat raw, my voice coming out in horse wheezes. Jorah didn’t ask, just sat down in the small armchair that sat in the corner of the room.

“You’ve been a lot of trouble,” Jorah said. I turned my glare to him. I’ve been a lot of trouble? How Ironic. “They found out who you were. Your name at least. FOund your missing person profile two counties over. You matched perfectly except for the new injuries. We wanted to talk to you about those.”

I couldn't answer him, just glared and let the silence sit before he started again. “We wanted to assure you that you will never be under the hand of Sam again. You have my word.” Jorah said this, but I turned my gaze to Dean. He was still sitting in the corner like a broken dog. Good. 

“We only found you because we need to find him.” My heart rate sped up. “He’s different from who you know compared to who he really is. He’s nothing like that. He’s been missing for months now. We think something happened to him that changed him. Dean’s the only one who can put him right. We need you to help us find him.”

Dean’s expression changed. He no longer was looking at me, just staring at the floor. THrough Jorah’s speech he had mixed emotion flutter through his face such as anger, sadness, fury, and rage. I saw hurt too, but it stayed as long as the fear did. Just for a fleeting second.

“We only ask you to tell us where he is. Just write it down on a piece of paper and we will leave you. All your medical is paid, we fixed up your place, your apartment. It’s small.” Jorah gave a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been out for a while. You needed rest to let the stitches in your lung to heal. We hope everything is up to par. We only want the best for you. Which also includes us leaving.”

I thought about his proposal for a moment before lifting up my hand. Dean had moved only a little, his back leaning against the wall, now looking right at me. He quickly got me the pad of paper and while I looked up at him through the maze of tubes, I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I quickly looked away as Jorah gave me a pen form the other side of me. Dean moved back to his spot while Jorah stayed, watching me fumble the pad and pen at the same time. With all the little medical things stuck on and in me, I couldn't hold both. “Here.” Jorah said, grabbing the pad and resting it in a position where I could write on it.

It took a lot of concentration, effort and stamina to get the words on the paper. I had deliberated about their proposal since he came into the room. I knew what they wanted, I had their answer. The only deliberation that took place was whether to give it to them or not.

I finished the what I had said, dropping the pen as I glared at Dean. It wasn’t a harsh glare, just figuring what his reaction might be. I could almost hear Jorah read the words through his head before letting out a long, deep sigh. Dean didn’t break eye contact as he pushed himself off the wall again and over to the pad of paper.

“What does it say?” HIs voice low and rough. The voice of a man who has seen crap. THe voice of a man who has been beaten but never broken. I wondered if he had ever seen a family member die. I knew he had to of had killed people, I could practically see their souls when I saw into his eyes. I knew he held a lot of pain, but I resented him for it. He never had to take it out on other people, he never had to constantly fight. He always had the choice to give up. Maybe I wouldn’t be here, maybe Sam Winchester wouldn’t of have found me. Maybe we would all be alright without the great, dark, unbroken Dean Winchester.

“What does it say?” He repeated, just a little louder. Jorah sighed again before clearing his throat and stepping away from me. “She will give us his location only on one condition.” “Well?” Dean almost yelled. “What is it!”

“She wants both of you put in prison.” I never broke eye contact. I saw his emotions flood through his face. I saw every little detail. It contorted like a lion playing to about to roar. He was furious and I didn’t blame him, but there were things to be done without the Winchester brothers. Dean gave a chuckle as he relaxed his stance. He kept smiling until he leaned down, inches from my face. I could smell his breath, his jacket, his sweat. “Oh, sweet pea, how ignorant you are. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I’ve seen what my brother can do, I know what we are both capable of. That’s the reason we’re not in there. We keep little, fragile pieces like you safe and all we get is petty threats that can’t be carried out. Now, right now, I’m so beyond done,” with this, his face dropped to show the beast beneath. “ with all you little leeches thinking you can get away with all your little errands that you all think are so goddamned important… but if you think that I am the one to be afraid of, then maybe you should see my brother when I tell him you want to throw him in prison. If he ever finds out about this, you’ll be nothing more than a bag of blood and bone thrown to the bottom of the river.”

I saw every little detail he pushed into his emotions. Every word, every touch of anger on his lips, the fire broiling behind his eyes.

I was scared.

So was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked it. I will try to finish it whenever I can.


End file.
